Mrs. Klug Speaks for God

The road is dusty, winding and tortuous, but every Wednesday and Sunday several hundred people turn off the smooth concrete of Route 142 near Anaheim, Calif., and bump their way upward to the oak-studded hills of Carbon Canyon. They assemble themselves on folding chairs formed in a semicircle in a glade near the top of the Hill of Hope, and there await the Miracle of St. Joseph. They are never disappointed. At 10:30 a.m., a stocky woman with soft gray hair and intense brown eyes walks quietly in front of a modest pedestal holding a small statue of St. Joseph and the infant Jesus. An aide strings a microphone around her neck. Then to her rapt audience Mrs. Frances Klug, 51, a devout Catholic, mother of three and wife for 26 years of an insurance agent, explains that she is "only a transmitter" not only for various saints (especially St. Joseph) but also for the Virgin Mary and even the Blessed Trinity.

This Child. Fran Klug's pleasant, unlined face reveals no emotion as she waits for her heavenly "locutions" to start coming through. In a few moments her lips begin to move. Her voice is even and soft. "I am St. Joseph," the voice says. "There has been no one like this child [Mrs. K.] except when the son walked the land. I, St. Joseph, will tell you things you have never known." Then, instead of some horrific revelation, comes a homey bit of apocrypha from the saint, telling how the Holy Family rushed away from the dinner table one evening to aid a neighbor in distress, only to find the man unharmed when they arrived. "My son stood behind us with a big smile because he knew when we left the table that the Father had already heard the prayers." Mrs. Klug's locutions, be they from St. Joseph, St. Augustine, St. Anthony, St. Mary Magdalene or the Father himself, are not always pious anecdotes. Often they transmit warnings against the demons of these latter days: sex education in the schools, recalcitrant youth and satan cults.

"And now, as I leave," St. Joseph is saying, like the M.C. of this celestial show of shows, "another wants to speak --one I know you love." Mrs. Klug's head lolls to one side. She sighs. The assembly holds its breath. "My beloved," intones God the Father. "A long time ago I created this hill, and I have come now in this day to repossess it. It will bring millions of souls to me." Then, incredibly on such a clear day, thunder rumbles in the hills. Fran Klug rubs her eyes. But it does not take a sign to confirm the faith of her followers. They have already formed a corporation for Fran's "Hill of Hope" and have raised the $100,000 down payment on a $1.1 million purchase of its 440 acres.

Planned by God. Construction is already under way at the hill on an immense pilgrimage center "designed entirely by the Blessed Trinity," according to the weekly newsletter of St. Joseph's Hill of Hope Corp. The center will include a basilica, seminary, retreat house, pilgrim house, hospital, monastery, museum, amphitheater, restaurant and religious goods store. "God approves everything, even how the buildings will look," says one of Fran's aides. If so, the Trinity must be taking lessons from Walt Disney. Leading across a ravine to the basilica will be the "Examination of Conscience" bridge, on which sins against the Decalogue will be represented, in order that "we might be cleansed by the time we reach the great edifice." There will also be a crown-shaped chapel to Our Lady and a special "Room of Saints." Fran herself takes no credit for the extravagant undertaking. "I would never dream this big. But nothing is too good for God."

Mrs. Klug has apparently received no specific revelations on how the Trinity plans to finance the ambitious building program, which could cost as much as $50 million. But a sprinkling of Cadillacs at the locution meetings indicates that some of the contributions may be considerably more than indicated by the "Pennies for Heaven" box, which is a permanent fixture on the hill. The bulk of her supporters appear to be middle-income suburban whites from nearby Catholic parishes. In October there will be a mammoth "Festival of Hope" bazaar (grand prize: a station wagon), and in November the corporation will throw a grand charity ball at the Century Plaza in Los Angeles ($25 a head).

Even those who do not support the Hill seldom question Mrs. Klug's sincerity. In hopes of securing the blessing of Pope Paul VI she has sent the Vatican a transcript of her revelations, which have been coming in regularly for some five years now. So far there has been no word from the Vatican, but Bishop Leo T. Maher of San Diego has advised his flock not to support the Hill, citing the possible harm to the "unsuspecting faithful" from claims that could turn out to be erroneous or fraudulent. Fran, though, is not deterred by criticism. "God says to me 'Do not worry about those who do not believe. Let it roll off you like holy water.' "

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.